The Emptiness in the Air
by SMS13
Summary: Booth and Brennan return back from their respective trips and continue to struggle with their own thoughts and feelings. Brennan remains unsure of herself and what she's experiencing but Booth has made his choice. Please review and I'll keep writing!
1. Changes

Author Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. If I did, Bones and Brennan would have hooked up a LONG time ago :) And please review (and be nice but constructive). This is my first time back in the writing saddle since about 5 years ago. I have an idea of where I'm going with the story, so please enjoy!

Her body felt weary and unstable as she began the walk to exit the plane. The twenty-three hour plane ride seemed like an eternity, her body readjusting to the feeling of solid ground and gravity. Her ankles were swollen and the lack of sleep left a painful sensation above her left temple. Every breath seemed labored yet she felt a certain calm ride over her. This return, for whatever illogical reason, didn't seem the same to her. Angela and Dr. Sweets would have a better explanation for what was happening, but she could surmise that it most likely was related to feelings of recognition, commonality, and convenience. The temperatures in the Maluku Islands did not bother her as much as it did some of the workers. She was used to the temperatures due to her other expeditions. Some of the graduate students under her care had to be put on bed rest for a few days due to heat exhaustion, but she always pressed on.

She tumbled through the crowd at the busy airport; the symphony of voices, screams, and tears adding weight to her already throbbing head. She was surrounded by others embracing after a long separation, cheerful voices welcoming their missed ones back into their folds. Her aching body struggled to move through the crowd; her feet refused to move as quickly as she would like; her arm was searing in pain from pulling along her suitcase, which appeared to weight an extra hundred pounds. The more she walked the less energy she seemed to have; there was always another body to dodge. She kept running into people, despite her best efforts. She didn't bother to apologize, her words would be lost and she didn't feel it was her fault. She continued to trudge through this urban jungle, missing the stable trees from Maluku.

Her only source of comfort was the brightly lit exit sign that almost seared itself into her vision. She could feel her pulse slightly racing, most likely from the aerobics she had just preformed running through the crowd. Although still exhausted, she was better able to focus. She stepped through the exit and could have almost been mistaken as one of the crowd. Her eyes eagerly scanned the surroundings but found nothing familiar. She saw mothers running toward smiling children, husbands embracing wives, lovers separated by oceans. The crowd slowly filtered out following the migration patterns out of the airport. She stood staring for a second. A sadness washed over her for no explicit conscious reason. Her body refused to will itself to move.

She scanned the almost-vacant hallway again. There seemed to be a few stragglers but no one of interest. Who was she hoping to find? A deep sigh exited her frame and finally she continued on. Still, she kept turning around, seeking someone who seemed to only be a figment of her imagination. She was on her own.

The next few steps were a blur of exhaustion, colors, and familiar sights. In a half-conscious state she managed to hail a cab and find her way home. Her father had promised to take care of her apartment while she was gone. She hoped he had at least remembered to pick up her mail, even though most of it would be obsolete and unnecessary at this point. Pulling up to her apartment, she tipped the cab driver and climbed her aching self from the car. She needed to lay down on her own bed; her back was cramped and sore from nights on a cot and hours on a plane. Too exhausted to search for her own keys, she pulled her spare out from under the light a few feet a way. The overpowering smell of stale air and her favorite sandalwood fragrance slammed her in the face. Her apartment was dark, desolate. Nothing warm waited her inside. Flipping on a switch, she noted the pile of mail on the table and the large bouquet of flowers sitting calmly on the table. Unnecessary, but a very symbolic gesture that encouraged social relations. The flowers, according to the attached card, were from her father. She pulled off her shoes and placed them neatly on the mat by the door. She instantly opened a few windows to let fresh air enter the home and to avoid breathing in the layers of dust that accumulated in her absence.

On her way back to the kitchen, she found a bottle of ibuprofen sitting on the shelf. She casually glanced at the expiration date - it was almost 6 months past. Yet she still pour two out and headed to the kitchen. The active ingredients were still fine; the expiration date was a ploy for consumers to purchase more. Downing the two pills with a glass of water, she noticed how different the water tasted. The metallic aftertaste hung in her mouth and seemed to not leave. She opened her fridge in hopes of finding something to quell the taste but found only a bottle of ketchup, a half-drunk bottle of wine, and a shrivel lime. Giving up, she headed over to her answering machine. Her business line was full, but her private line only had 3 messages. She pressed the play button and the noise filled her empty apartment and echoed through the walls. "Brennan, hun, it's Angela. Welcome back! I can't wait to hear all about your trip. Give me a call when the jet-lag wears off. I have some exciting news." The machine's overly eager beep echoed in her ears. "Hi Dr. Brennan, it's Cam. I just wanted to say welcome back and I can't begin to explain to you how much I've missed you. Let me know if you need anything and I look forward to seeing you back at work soon. It hasn't been the same without you." Cam's voice sounded sincere; she could only wonder what chaos ensued at the Jeffersonian in her absence. Another screeching beep. "Tempe, it's Dad. Welcome home, honey. I missed you. I hope you liked the flowers I left you. I couldn't remember what you liked best so I got you a little bit of everything. I left your mail on the table and I'm going to come by later tonight with some food for you since I know there's nothing in the fridge. I'll try to be quiet in case you're sleeping. I love you sweetheart. It's so good to know you're safe." Beep. No more messages. Her head pounded and she no longer felt like she could stand. She sat down at the table to regain some energy. She checked her cell-phone, no notifications. She never considered herself smitten or dependent. She never depended on anyone but herself. Yet at this moment, she could feel a twinge of hurt, of pain. Not just the physical pain, but the emotional pain. The pain that had taken over her body when her parents had left; the pain that encompassed her when she realized she was truly alone in the world. She checked her phone again. What mistake had she made? What fault had she committed? Where was he? Why hadn't he met her at the airport? Logically she knew he could be busy. But emotionally, irrationally, just for a moment... She missed him.


	2. Amber Courage

A/N: I do not own Bones! I wish I did. Please review :)

He sat in darkness, his senses heightened. Every small noise sounded like a freight train to him, which happened often in the vast loud city. The car horns, the motorcycles, the brakes screeching. He felt he could hear the conversation of the couples in front of the bar down the street. The rain and the thunder muffled the noise, but not enough. The thunder itself sent chills down his spine, his head looking around quickly, his pulse beating, his body tense. Dr. Sweets taught him a few deep breathing exercises to take the edge off the transition. He slowly inhaled, letting the cool fresh air fill his lungs. He waited, then exhaled. As silly as it sounded, a few repetitions helped him take the edge off. His body relaxed, his heart pounded at a normal pace. He reached for the glass on the table next to him. He could see the little bit light peaking through his windows reflecting the bottle and the glass. He poured the amber liquid, guessing by the sound of the liquid hitting the glass how full it was. He didn't care how accurate he was. He had practically finished the bottle off already.

The day had been long but rewarding. He has spent the entire day with Parker, catching up. One year, although only a ripple in time, had felt like an eternity to him. He missed his son and missed many events in his life. Rebecca, thankfully, had managed to video record some of the important ones and he had a pile of DVD's sitting on his coffee table he still needed to watch. But nothing compared to being able to play catch with Parker, listen to him, hold him. Parker was becoming a man even though Booth still liked to think he was going to be remain small and innocent for the rest of his life. The happiest moment of his life was Parker's birth. Nothing in the world ever brought him more joy.

But Bones came a second a close. He took a large drink out of his glass, the liquid burning the back of his throat as it went down. It left a bitter yet sweet taste in the back of his mouth. Drinking more was only redundant; he was already completely wasted and unfit for human interaction. He felt his heart ache for a second, the liquid doing nothing to alleviate the pain. It only magnified it a hundredfold until it engulfed his entire body. His chest felt heavy and it was difficult for him to breath. Every breath was labored and conscious. Sadness, frustration, grief, anger, love. It all swarmed over him like a tornado engulfing a small town in the middle of the night. It took every ounce of his strength to keep breathing, to keep fighting this feeling.

He consciously left her at the airport. He purposely didn't call. In over one year, she hadn't bothered to reach out to him. His heart, as much as he wanted to deny it, was shattered. He didn't know what the separation would bring to them. He hoped it would be a sense of closure - out of sight, out of mind. But every day, he longed to see her face. She dominated his dreams. He tossed and turned, hoping that she was safe and out of harm's way. The longer the time, the harsher the reality. He couldn't bring himself to be a doormat again. He loved her, he still does. Yet he wants someone who would fight for him. She never would. Her own insecurities, doubts, and pain too often get in the way. There is not one single individual in the universe that has not been hurt. But most are still able to pick up their tattered, torn hearts and duct tape them back together again. It will never be the same as before, but feeling something is better than feeling nothing at all.

He missed her, more than he had ever before. He had a life before Brennan, but she changed him. She brought a sense of naivete to his life; she was vulnerable and fragile beyond the intellectualized exterior. More often than not, he believed she purposely remained oblivious to the world around her in order to avoid interactions with others. Her mind was brilliant, her knowledge unparalleled. Yet her self - her true self, was damaged. She lost herself in knowledge to fill the emptiness in her life. Evidence proved to be more manageable than the feelings she so quickly dismissed. Chemical reactions, neurons, endorphins, serotonin... Emotions are a part of being alive, they differentiate us as being human. She mesmerized him. He couldn't pull away. She never failed to surprise him. Or to hurt him, apparently.

He needed to move on; life was too short. He would never find someone like Bones, but he needed to try to find someone who would be by his side. As much as he liked to portray strength, he was also vulnerable. But at least he acknowledge his vulnerability. The thought of spending the rest of his life alone scared him. He needed a human connection. He needed love in his life or it wasn't really living.

He would have waited for her. She just needed to say the words. He needed to know that somewhere deep inside her the hope hadn't been destroyed. He could see it in her eyes, a glimmer at a time, but it wasn't enough. Tonight was the first night without her. She was only a few miles away but she might as well be back across the ocean. One final drink of the glass and it was all gone.


	3. The Pain in the Girl

Author Disclaimer: I don't own Bones but I love feedback. Please, please, please?

The shielded rays of the sun woke her raw body up. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest, yearning for her to stay where she was - in the comfort of her own warm bed. The effects of the diphenhydramine citrate she took the night before were still clouding her thoughts, but at least had given her a dreamless slumber. She was looking forward to getting back to the Jeffersonian. She assumed there would be a backlog of cases and remains to investigate and catalog; after all, no one had her expertise or experience. She hadn't even had a chance to meet her temporary replacement before she left. She would have to reorganize the clutter and knew it would be a few months of long nights. She stripped off her clothes before stepping into the steaming shower. Of all the things she missed, her daily shower was probably the most vital. The water washed away the last bits of sleepiness and erased the memories of last night. It relaxed her muscles enough for her to begin to move normally again. It was refreshing, peaceful. She stood under the shower head, letting the water hit her in the face and reawaken her sense of responsibility. After a few minutes, she realized she was done. Wasting any more time would be foolish. The next half hour passed in her usual frenzied and directive approach. She quickly blow-dried her air and opted to put it in a tight ponytail behind her head. She knew she would be busy all day and didn't feel the need to keep pushing her hair out of her way. As she opened her closet, the choices overwhelmed her for a second. On the islands, she remained primarily in jeans, short sleeve shirts, and boots. Back home, she realized she needed to be more suitably dressed. She grabbed a pair of black slacks and a dark green shirt. She paired the outfit with her favorite pair of heels and wasted no time evaluating her outfit's choice. She was in the proper physical health and had continued her yoga regimen on the islands. Although as she walked by the mirrors, she noticed the color of her skin against the backdrop of the shirt. The many hours spent out in the sun had darkened her usual porcelain skin to a rich brown. It was different.

As promised, her father had refilled her kitchen with the basic necessities. She hadn't even heard him enter or exit the night before. She grabbed a fresh apple from the fruit bowl he had replenished and dug her car keys out from their hiding spot. She knew the enormity of the day that awaited her and she could only hope that she had enough energy, aided by large amounts of caffeine.

On her usual drive back to the Jeffersonian, she noticed new shops that had opened in her absence. The streets were lined with blooming flowers and hyperactive tourists. The noise was new to her; she forgot what a city felt like. As she drove by the Lincoln Memorial, a memory of Booth flooded her head. Quickly dismissing it as logical, she proceeded on. After all, she had visited it with him many times before.

Stepping into the Jeffersonian, her heels clicked satisfyingly against the newly polished floors. She didn't recognize the security officer sitting in front of her laboratory, but with a wave of her badge, it didn't matter. It was still early in the morning and not many people had arrived yet. A few of the new graduate students scurried about, completely oblivious to the fact that their idol just walked in through the glass doors. She took the quiet opportunity to become settled in her office, which thankfully had been prepared for her. She turned on the coffee machine, which had been preset with her favorite coffee. Her desk was cluttered with piles and piles of evaluations, requests, and open files. She wondered if her replacement had done anything at all, considering some of the requests dated back to three weeks post leave. She was afraid to even open her email, knowing that there would be hundreds of emails to sort. This would take her at least a week to filter through, but she was glad to be back.

She started from the left and began to work her way through the files. She categorized them by their needs and would try to focus on the more pertinent ones immediately. Some forms simply required her signature for cataloging purposes. Other forms she had to review in order to ensure the proper information was presented. Most of the paperwork was nonsense but she understood it was required. She worried she wouldn't even be able to enter the lab due to the massive amount of pure paper still stacked in front of her. After sorting through a quarter of the pile, she finally realized her coffee was no where to be seen. She hadn't even poured herself a mug. She got up and walked over to the table, pouring the thankfully still steaming liquid into her favorite mug and mixed in a container of creamer. Booth's mug sat next to hers, recently cleaned. He hadn't called the night before. He was most likely busy. He did, after all, have a son he hadn't seen in a year and probably had as much catching up to do as she did. A pang caught her but she refused to acknowledge it. Rather, she turned back to the pile of papers waiting on the desk and went back to work.

A little past nine she noticed the noise begin to accumulate in the hall beyond her office. It seems like the day has officially begun, most still oblivious to her presence in the office. She wondered how long that would last just as she placed another pile on top of her ever growing cases. She heard her door open and saw a smiling Cam standing in the doorway. She looked pleased to see her working diligently.

Cam's voice filled her office with a cheerful tone. "It's good to see you again, Dr. Brennan. You were missed."

"Thank you, Dr. Saroyan. I've already started cataloging the cases that need immediate attention and will take personal care of ensuring all the proper documents are returned to their proper place." She motioned to the files in front of her and assumed Dr. Saroyan understood what she was doing.

"Wow. Okay." She looked at Cam and saw the look of surprise and admiration on her face. Booth and Sweets had been teaching her to recognize facial cues before she had been leaving. "Well take it easy. I know your flight got back in yesterday. I'm surprised you decided to come in today."

She was off-put by Cam's comment. Her sense of responsibility outweighed her own personal adjustments. Spending time at home would be futile with all the work she had to accomplish here. "You shouldn't be. I timed my flight and return times so I would be able to readjust to the time restrictions and had no difficulty doing so the previous night. Clearly there remains much to be completed."

She noticed Dr. Saroyan taking her leave. "Okay. Let me know if you need anything. Welcome back." With that, she watched the director leave her office and leave her in much needed solitude. She assumed that Angela and Dr. Hodgins would be entering at any moment. Although she appreciated Angela's enthusiasm and support, she feared her screeching voice as she would enter. The twinge of headache last night still hadn't completely left her. She also assumed Dr. Sweets would be visiting today as well, although she really had no energy or patient to deal with the young overly eager psychologist. She still had a hard time validating many of his findings or even his simple rationale. But apparently other people found him intelligent and therefore she had to deal with him. And Booth, the thought crossed her mind. She would most likely be seeing him today as well. He returned a few days prior to her and she assumed he would be working. She wondered how that exchange would go. They hadn't left things amicably before leaving. She understood the origins of his chemical reactions and the validity of them based purely on a research setting. But for her, it was nothing more than a rush of serotonin and norepinephrine. The same chemicals released during sex, intimate moments, stress, pain. They aimed to calm. Love was a name simply attributed to these reactions and she knew that after a year the levels began to decrease and the effects were no longer as overwhelming or strong. A new baseline established itself. Why risk a few moments of overeager brain chemicals when she can preserve a stronger bond of friendship with Booth instead? Logic and science outweighed any type of irrational decision. But what she couldn't explain was the feeling of pain that washed over her. It wasn't quite physical or related to her sore muscles. It didn't seem directly related to a medical problem. Yet it pulsed within her over and over again, for no apparently reason. As much as she tried, she couldn't ignore the feeling and the thoughts it produced. Is this what Booth felt? Is this what plagued him? Is this what he suffered?


End file.
